The Israeli Connection
by SassyJ
Summary: AU When Malachi Ben-Gidon turns up on her doorstep wounded, Ziva takes him in. Enlisting Abby's help Ziva tries to keep his presence a secret, and the team find themselves in a race for a dangerous treasure.
1. Chapter 1

It was a horrible night. The rain was slashing down, and it was cold and unpleasant. Ziva David picked up her book and settled down on the sofa, she glanced out of the window and shivered a little, glad to be indoors.

...ooo0ooo...

He checked his watch for the fourth time, the rain was really heavy now, and for a moment he wondered if the meet would go through. It seemed simple. _Too simple_.

A shiver clawed its way up his spine. Something was off, he knew it... He had no idea what, every instinct he had was telling him to leave. But he was an officer following his orders. Orders said that he was to meet with the man in the alley, and receive the package, handing over the money. That part was the bit he found really distasteful. Buying information.

He got out of the car, heading for the alley. The rain soaked his clothes as he crossed the street, a minor annoyance. But still he couldn't shake that feeling, the feeling that something was wrong. He moved more cautiously now. Nothing but the sound of falling rain. Something moved in a dark doorway to his left, he half-turned...

The shot came from his right, it punched into his shoulder and he staggered. There was an instant of numbness then a blinding pain nearly overwhelmed him. Awkwardly he fumbled his weapon into his left hand, firing twice towards the position where the shot came from, he stumbled away in the rain.

He had been betrayed. He had one thought, to seek sanctuary.

...ooo0ooo...

She yawned and stretched a little, and laid her book down. Time for a coffee. She got to her feet and headed to the kitchen.

Ziva measured out her coffee and put the water into the machine. As the machine started its work, she leaned back against the counter and returned to her little problem. _Agent Anthony DiNozzo..._

She smiled to herself... Tony was special, even though he didn't seem to know it himself. Hiding his true nature behind jokes and foolishness. He always seemed to go too far. Yet there was something very appealing in his sometimes childish behaviour.

Suddenly Ziva stiffened. Instincts kicked in sending her state of alert into hyper-drive. She moved, cat-stepping quietly towards the source of the noise. Silently she retrieved her side arm from the drawer. She couldn't be sure... yet there it was again, tentative scratching sound.

She slipped up to her front door, and quickly checked the spy-hole. An impression of a dark shape just on the periphery of her vision.

She yanked the door open and moved through it in one perfectly executed move, gun levelled.

"Malachi?"

He was propped against the door frame. "Ziva..." he muttered thickly, "I..." He slumped forward onto his knees, and she caught him before he hit the floor, "help... me..."


	2. Chapter 2

Malachi's weight nearly knocked her to the floor. Ziva's arms wrapped round him tightly as she struggled to stay upright on her feet. "Dammit..." she hissed through her teeth. Stepping backwards, she managed to drag him the couple of feet necessary to pull him over the threshold.

He was heavy, and she struggled not to drop him as she eased his weight down to the floor. As she sat back on her heels, she realised her hands and left arm were sticky with blood.

It was the right shoulder again. As Ziva pushed his heavy coat and jacket aside, the blue shirt underneath was heavily stained. The damage was bad, and it had taken a long time for him to recover from his previous wound there. For second she almost felt panic.

"Malachi..." she pressed her hand firmly into the wound, and he groaned, shifting restlessly, "who..."

His eyes opened, his lips moved. She had to bend closer to hear him. "Icriem" it came out in a sigh as he passed out.

Ziva's blood ran cold. She dragged his tie off, balled it up, and shoved it firmly into the wound, pulling his jacket and heavy topcoat back over the injured shoulder, it would hold for a few moments while she gathered some supplies and her mobile. She was going to need help on this one.

He was still out cold when she returned with supplies. She cleaned the wound, noting that there was no exit, the bullet was still in there. She needed to pack the wound tightly to prevent further blood loss, and it would be painful for him if he woke up, so she worked quickly. Once she had finished, she gathered all the bloodied cloths and dressing packets that she had used and shoved them into a paper bag. His blood had marked the rug in her hallway, that would have to be moved too.

He was in deep trouble. He had turned to her for help. When he did not return, one of the first places they would look would be Ziva's place. So she had to move him to somewhere he would be safe, with someone whom she could trust.

There was really only one call she could make. Swiftly she pressed the speed dial number on her phone.

...ooo0ooo...

Abbey Sciuto stretched and reached for another Caf-Pow, it was a slow night in the game, and she wandered through the levels, vanquishing enemies and acquiring treasure without meeting anyone she knew.

She sighed, she needed another meaty case... something that stretched her to the limits. Unless something major came in, she would be forced to attend that seminar.

Abbey shuddered. Mandatory attendance for anyone not working a case. Something on the subject of diversity in the work place. As though they didn't understand diversity. Abbey herself was living proof of diversity.

And mandatory courses did not make bigots instantly enlightened. She sighed again.

She suddenly became aware of the ringing phone.

She picked it up. Ziva's number. A little frisson shivered through her and the hairs prickled on the back of her neck. She answered "Hi."

Abbey's eyes widened as she listened to the tale that Ziva was pouring out.

"I'm coming, right now." She grabbed her bag, her keys and hurried to the front door. Behind her, on her computer, her character slumped, forlorn and forgotten in Abbey's haste.

...ooo0ooo...

The rain was still pounding down, as Abbey drove. Relatively slowly for her, the windscreen wipers barely keeping up with the downpour. She pondered what Ziva had told her.

Anything to do with the Israelis made Abbey nervous, worried for Ziva, concerned for Tony, just plain distressed. It seemed as though they only blew in on an ill-wind. Even though Malachi Ben-Gideon was Ziva's compatriot, Abbey wasn't about to trust him too far. Ziva had asked for Abbey's help, and that was enough for Abbey; but the Mossad Officer was purely part of that help. Not an ally. She would treat him as an acquaintance rather than a foe, but that would be as far as it would go.

Finally she pulled up in front of Ziva's apartment, the rain was still pouring down, and Abbey scurried to the front door. Odd, but the heaviness of the down pour would actually help them. She felt a little twinge of excitement in spite of her misgivings.

The door buzzed and she pushed it open.

...ooo0ooo...

She had to be a bit rough to bring him round. Finally, she managed to get him at least semi-awake. Conversation was clearly beyond him, but that didn't matter. She just had to get him somewhere where no one would be likely to look for him. Get him some attention for his shoulder, and keep him safe. She could not turn her back on him. Abbey would know where he could be hidden.

Malachi drifted a little, he was awake, and regretting his sudden impulse to seek sanctuary with Ziva. She did not need to be involved. He tried to tell her, but the pain was so overwhelming it was taking his breath away. It was taking almost all his strength to hold on to consciousness and breathe in and out.

There was a knock at the door, and he stiffened. Ziva moved to answer it. "Don't" he gasped.

"It's okay." Her voice was low and soothing, and he tuned in to that, despite his regret at involving her, a little warmth oozed through his soul at her gentle words.

His vision was blurring a little as the pain from his wound was swamping his senses, he had a confused impression of long legs clad in black tights, heavy black platform boots, and a very short skirt, bright... some kind of squared pattern and little pleats.

He blinked slowly as the vision changed, and found himself staring into a pair of earnest green eyes that seemed to look right into his soul.

"Hi." A pair of red lips framed the word. The vision had black hair divided into two neat plaits, and a thick fringe over her forehead. The face was heart-shaped and pretty, but he was having a hard time computing the dog collar and spider's web on the side of her neck.

"Hi." It came out on something of a wheeze, but he was relieved to note that he still had a voice.

She turned to address Ziva, and he tuned out for a moment. By the time he could suck up the pain and tune back in, a decision seemed to have been made.

The green eyes were staring into his again. "This is going to hurt." The voice was soft and sympathetic, "but we have to move you, it isn't safe here."

He knew that; he shouldn't have come, he knew that too and he tried to apologise. Ziva's index finger gently pressed his lips, and she shook her head. "No." She whispered. "You were right."

He tried to take a deep breath. They were either side of him, and suddenly he was upright, and the pain was unbelievable, he bit his lip until he tasted blood, not to cry out.

The car was small, and old... something European, but he was hurting too much to take it all in, just more confused impressions as they guided his faltering footsteps into the passenger seat. He slumped awkwardly, and the pain rose up to claim him once again.


	3. Chapter 3

Malachi woke to more pain. Sometime after the car journey, after they had helped him from the vehicle, he was stripped of his soaked and bloody clothing, helped into some unfamiliar shorts and a shirt of some kind and assisted to lie down.

Two pairs of hands then proceeded to check his shoulder.

Malachi had a dreamlike impression of an older man, an unfamiliar voice and an accent which seemed to be British. A needle pricked the back of his hand, and he tried to resist. "ssssshh" a voice soothed, "you're safe..."

Something was gently flowing through his veins and he gave in to its seductive pull.

...ooo0ooo...

Tony DiNozzo was trying to get Ziva David to notice him and failing miserably. _And this is some of my best material too._ He reached down, calculated the angle and fired the rubberband. It pinged off her screen and landed on her keyboard, Ziva scarcely noticed, merely brushing it away before returning to her close study of the bulletin board.

Tony got up from his desk, intending to head over to Ziva's and discover exactly what she was up to.

"Grab your bags, we're going to Norfolk."

In all Tony's time at NCIS he had never worked out just how Gibbs managed to move that quietly. Leave it to McGee to ask the question, "what's in Norfolk, boss?"

"A dead Petty Officer"... a beat, _Classic Gibbs_, "do you need an engraved invitation?"

_Classic McGee_, probie fumble as he tried to gather his bags and his wits at once.

_Classic Ziva_, he never saw her move, but she was by the elevator and ready to go as the doors were opening.

"Today, DiNozzo." He realised he was standing there dumbly and grabbed his bag, following Ziva to the doors. The palm bounced off the back of his head. "Ow, what was that for boss."

"For firing rubberbands at your partner."

DiNozzo stood to attention in the elevator wondering just how Gibbs knew that, it wasn't as though he was there... "Yes, boss... it won't happen again, boss." He muttered uncomfortably.

Behind him, in the corner of the elevator, Ziva hid a small smile. Gibbs had an instinct for such things, and a thorough knowledge of Tony.

Gibbs himself remained something of an enigma. She pondered the enigma as she tried to reconcile the problem that she and Abby now faced, what to do with the wounded Mossad Officer in Abby's spare bed. _And not just any of my old colleagues... Malachi!_

...ooo0ooo...

She was young, pretty, partially dressed and unmistakeably dead. There was a surprised innocence in her cold, dead gaze as she stared sightlessly up at nothing.

Ziva felt an uncharacteristic rush of pity for this poor dead child, for she was little more. It stayed her steps for a moment and she faltered.

"Ziva, the perimeter, DiNozzo, sketches and photographs, McGee..." Gibbs paused, "you're with me."

For a few seconds Tony wondered at Gibbs' slightly softened tone, until he caught sight of Ziva's face. The wisecrack died on his lips as he looked down at the face of the young dead girl.

In a trance, he snapped a picture, as his mind replayed another scene. A rooftop, half a lifetime ago, or so it seemed. Before Ziva David had come into his life. Before Jeanne and La Grenouille and a love betrayed. Tony shook himself. _God, she looks like Kate_.

Even while he took in the resemblance to his dead colleague, a shrewd part of Tony's brain was absorbing Ziva's reaction. He had known the instant he set foot in the office that something was up with her. The flirtation, the game they had been playing for months, years even, was gone. She seemed closed down, tense... he could smell a mystery. And he wanted to know.

...ooo0ooo...

Abby Sciuto ran the bullet that Ducky had dug from Malachi's shoulder through the system. No matches; _good or bad?_, that she could not say, but she stored the information. Until there was something to match against, the bullet was a dead end.

Evidence was starting to filter in from the Norfolk case and she started to process.

...ooo0ooo...

Ziva picked up the last of the evidence bags and packed them into the case. Tony was starting to annoy. His crack about the Usual Suspects was almost the final straw.

"I..."

"It is so important for your long-term future that you do not finish that sentence." She snapped.

"I was..."

"Which movie is it this time?" Ziva growled.

Tony subsided with a hurt glance in her direction, "I was merely going to point out that she was very young." He said with quiet dignity.

"So it is acceptable to be upset by this." She finished. Ziva looked down at the floor, "I am sorry." She said.

A moment of perfect accord passed between them and Tony felt a twinge in the region of his heart. She was very different, Ziva David, but there was something about her that challenged him. But that wasn't going to deflect him. Something was up, and he was going to find out what it was.

...ooo0ooo...

He ached all over, until he moved, and then a giant hand reached out to crush his right shoulder in a deadly grip. He drifted mostly, images jumbled up in his head, his mission... he tried to focus on what that was, but he couldn't remember.

He couldn't remember anything before the pain, and his need to get to Ziva. There was something he had to tell her, he was certain of it, but he couldn't remember what that something was.

He drifted in and out. It seemed as though every time he woke, the girl with the green eyes was by his side. She was the one constant in his world of pain and confusion and he concentrated on that.

...ooo0ooo...

Abby allowed herself a moment as she processed the bullet which Ducky had taken from the dead girl. Malachi Ben-Gidon was not what she had expected. She certainly hadn't expected to have a semi-conscious, injured Mossad Officer in her spare bed. He had even tried to apologise to her, in one of his more lucid moments, for putting her to all that trouble.

Abby smiled to herself, Malachi was different. Somehow she had expected him to be more sinister, more like Ari.

The soft beep interrupted her musings and she looked up at her monitor.

_This was not good._ Abby stared at the perfect bullet match on the screen. The bullets taken from the dead girl, and Malachi's shoulder, were a perfect match.


	4. Chapter 4

"Talk to me, Abbs!"

Abby stared at the screen in front of her and swallowed. This was totally unexpected. Now with Gibbs standing right behind her, and Malachi in her apartment, and not wanting to let Ziva down, _but this was Gibbs... and... and..._ Abby froze.

"I..." she turned around, he was closer than she thought, she stared into the piercing blue eyes that she knew could read her soul. "We have a match."

He sensed that all was not right with her, he cocked his head expectantly and Abby found herself fumbling through the explanation of where the second bullet came from.

...ooo0ooo...

"Ziva, Tony, with me." Gibbs didn't even break stride as he headed for the elevator. "McGee, help Abby in the lab."

Something in Gibbs' tone curled the fine hairs on the back of Ziva's neck. _Gibbs knows._ Casting a sidelong look at Tony, she hurried to the elevator.

"Where are we going, boss." Tony was saying as she slipped in. As the door swished shut, Ziva turned to face Gibbs as he replied.

"To interview a witness." He slanted _that_ look at Ziva.

"Gibbs... I..."

"Have something to tell me." He finished for her.

Tony was looking confused again, and slightly angry, Ziva tried to tune him out.

"I was just... trying to..." she made a little huffy noise in her throat, "protect him."

"I know, Ziva." Gibbs' tone was mild.

"Protect who?" Tony was buzzing like a fly. "Who needs protecting?"

She ignored him. Lifting her chin she stared straight into Gibbs' eyes. "He's not Ari, he didn't harm anyone."

"I didn't say he did."

"Who..." They were driving. Gibbs drove, Ziva in the passenger seat, Tony muttering in the back.

...ooo0ooo...

Malachi eased down in the bed, his right shoulder throbbing. He was tired and weak, desperately trying to remember what his mission was. He closed his eyes, too sore to care. A key scratched in the lock, and he lay there trying to ignore the little skip in his pulse. His was a lonely existence and that was the way it would stay.

The door opened and footsteps approached. More than one, he opened his eyes and stared up at Gibbs.

Malachi tried to push himself into a sitting position, but Gibbs' hand on his undamaged shoulder prevented him, "No, stay put." Malachi lay back as Ziva moved to sit on the bed next to him, and Gibbs pulled up the chair.

...ooo0ooo...

"Say it."

Tony hunched a shoulder in irritation. "Say what? Oh good, the Israelis are back _YET_ again. And not only are they back, it's him."

Ziva smiled. "Do you have a problem with Malachi?"

Tony straightened, and stared down at her, "let me see, he marched in here and tried to drag you back to your father, and... what else... oh yes..." He was about to warm to his theme when she interrupted.

"Malachi is a friend."

"Well you certainly seemed very friendly back there, ZEE-VAH" Tony snapped.

Ziva spun round, eyes narrowed... she studied him closely... "You're jealous." She announced.

"No..." the vehement denial was automatic, even as he acknowledged the truth. Ziva David had got under his skin. And his response to Malachi Ben-Gidon was more territorial than he wanted it to be.

"You don't have to be." Ziva walked off, turning as she pressed the elevator call button. "Malachi is my cousin."

Tony's jaw dropped in a mixture of disbelief and more confusion. "How... who..." He spluttered.

"Malachi Ben-Gidon is the son of my mother's sister, therefore he's my cousin." Ziva explained it loudly and slowly as though explaining to a child.

"Well, whatever he was up to... which he very conveniently can't remember... it's a big part of this." Tony waved his hand. "The same gun killed Petty Officer Louise Farrell."

The smile snapped off Ziva's face. "Malachi did not shoot her."

"I didn't say he did." Tony looked hurt, he might not like Malachi, but he wasn't about to pin a murder on the guy. "but whatever he was here to do, is part of her death."

"I know." Ziva thought back to the word that Malachi had whispered to her before he passed out in her hallway. _Icriem_...

...ooo0ooo...

Abby sat on the edge of the bed, and carefully peeled the old dressings away from his wound. The dressings were soggy and unpleasant, but the healing wound was clean, the flesh pink and healthy. She peeled the packing off the new dressings and gently started to clean around the stitching, covering the wound when she finished.

Malachi watched her silently as she worked on his wounded shoulder, the painkillers had kicked in and the pain had subsided and other feelings were starting to intrude. She finished wrapping, and secured the bandage with a couple of clips, helping him ease his arm back into the sling.

"There. All done." She felt unaccountably shy, as she smiled at him.

His dark eyes searched hers for a moment. They were inches apart. "Thank you." He said. Two little words, his tone was one of loss and longing, and something in her heart responded to that.

"Thank you." She whispered, a little echo. "For what?"

He eased forward a little. "For what you have done."

Her green eyes were soft and gentle, and for one moment he wanted to connect with her, to banish loneliness. He held himself back.

Her heart processed the longing in his gaze, and she leaned forward. His good arm slid around her waist, as she leaned into his kiss.


	5. Chapter 5

Vance held the phone away from his ear as the speaker upped the volume of his shouting. It didn't really help. "Yes, Director David, I will look into it. Thank you. Good day." Vance cut across the ranting firmly and replaced the receiver.

He glared across the desk at Gibbs and raised an eyebrow. "I was not kept informed, why?"

"Plausible deniability."

Vance scowled, but Gibbs' guileless expression didn't falter. For just a second Vance pondered, with considerable irritation, just what it was about former Gunnery Sergeant Leroy Jethro Gibbs that made him such a thorn in Vance's side... and just why it was that Vance was apparently unable to do anything about it.

"Malachi Ben-Gidon." Vance said flatly. _Not a flicker_. "Mossad officers are not pets!" Vance snapped, "we cannot just keep them because we've taken a fancy to them. This one has _owners_, he will have to go back!" The serenity of Gibbs' expression did nothing for Vance's mood. "Go on..." he made a shooing motion with his hand, the vague spark of amusement in Gibbs's eyes reminding him that he did care what happened, to Ziva, to her cousin, and that the answer to the death of the young woman was locked in the head of a wounded foreign agent.

...ooo0ooo...

From the instant their lips touched, Malachi realised he would not be just walking away from this one. His senses swam, and it had nothing to do with his shoulder.

Abby's arms slid carefully around his neck as his left arm pulled her closer, she could feel the warmth of his skin through her tee shirt, _a little too warm_ she noted in an abstract area of her mind, _we really shouldn't be doing this_ as he started to remove his right arm from the sling.

Everything came to an abrupt halt, as pain lanced through his wounded shoulder and he cried out.

"Malachi!" Abby gently re-positioned his arm in the sling, and helped him lie down again. She made as if to move away and his good hand reached out to grasp her hand.

"Stay" he whispered, "please?"

Abby's fingers entwined themselves around his hand. "Sure." She whispered as he closed his eyes and lay back.

She sat and held his hand, and wondered about her own response to him. A trained killer. Ziva's cousin. Their lives were entirely separate. Their life experiences in almost complete opposition. But she felt closer to Malachi Ben-Gidon than she had thought possible.

It was a puzzle that she wanted to solve.

...ooo0ooo...

Ziva sat at her desk and thought about the one word Malachi had said. _Icriem_. It made no sense, and Malachi remembered nothing of that. He had blocked from his memory whatever happened to him that night, whatever his mission had been, it was now locked away in his head.

Icriem wasn't real, it was a myth. A myth that made Ziva's blood run cold. Men had chased this myth with its seductive promise of treasure for decades. But more than the promise of treasure was the promise of power.

A girl lay dead. And it could be Malachi next. However often she told herself that she was through with Mossad, she was an NCIS agent now; Malachi was still her cousin, they hadn't had much time together growing up, his father was a diplomat, but they had a shared history. And Mossad.

"Penny for them!"

Ziva smiled. "Why do you say that?" She looked up at Tony. "Would you actually give me a penny for my thoughts?"

"er... probably not."

He moved over to try and peer at her screen, and she switched off swiftly. "So what are you working on?"

"Tracing our Petty Officer's rental." Her eyes slithered away from his, and he knew she was fabricating but he decided to let it slide. "Dinner..?"

"Chinese?"

"Italian?"

She dropped some things into her bag and picked it up. "How about..." she got to her feet and locked her drawer, "I make dinner." The eager look on his face said it all. He followed her to the elevator.

She felt a little pang of regret, and a shiver crawled up her spine. Tomorrow she would try again to get Malachi to remember that which he had forgotten. Petty Officer Louise Farrell was waiting on it.


	6. Chapter 6

"You want me to hypnotise Malachi?"

Ziva was pacing up and down, but she paused long enough to stare hard at Abby. "Yes. You did with Jimmy. What's the problem?"

Abby sighed, she could sense Ziva's desperation, "well the problem is that it didn't work with Jimmy, and he's a lab rat" the door swished open, and Abby turned, "no offence Jimmy."

Palmer managed to look both hurt and mollified, "None taken. Ducky asked me to pass this to you." He handed over a couple of small evidence bags and shuffled out.

Abby put the bags on the bench, "The point being that while Jimmy is a lab rat, Malachi is a trained espionage officer. You're trained to evade such techniques."

Ziva frowned, she didn't want to offend Abby, "but Malachi is susceptible to you, Abby. It might work."

Abby flushed a little. She wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know that Malachi was _susceptible_, she rather preferred them to be equals.

The object of their discussion entered Abby's lab. Ducky having checked Malachi's shoulder, he looked a bit pale to Abby's anxious eyes, but it was not lost on her that he turned to her and not his cousin. Perhaps their connection _would_ help. Whatever he knew, his subconscious was blocking his memory of it. Perhaps she would be able to coax it out of him.

"How are you feeling?"

He reached for her hand with his left, the smile on his face didn't quite reach his eyes. They held a mixture of anxiety and sorrow, and Abby squeezed his hand.

"I am fine. Healing. But it is all so slow." His English had the same slightly clipped preciseness that Ziva's had. Abby felt a rush of tenderness, he was hurting and so far from home.

"Slow? Malachi, it's been three days." Abby sensed that there was more, but he wasn't sharing, so she left it alone.

Ziva noted the tender scene between Malachi and Abby with a little surprise. Watching them together she realised she was adjusting her own feelings about her cousin. Acknowledging that, Ziva let go of the last of her resentment over their recent meetings.

...ooo0ooo...

McGee was trying to track Louise Farrell's cell activity and not getting anywhere. Which was strange, and inexplicable and quite disturbing. Frustrated, McGee put that on hold, and went in search of Louise Farrell's laptop.

The door swished open, and he entered Abby's lab. Malachi Ben-Gidon and Abby were standing close together, there was a look on Abby's face which suggested to McGee that whatever the Israeli was saying to her, she liked it.

He cleared his throat.

They didn't spring apart, or anything so obvious, but they turned presenting a united front, or so it seemed to McGee's overheated imagination.

"McGee!" Abby surged forward. "I need you to operate the e-fit, we're going to try hypnosis."

_Like that worked so well last time_. McGee was longing to say it, but the eagerness in Abby's expression stopped him.

...ooo0ooo...

Malachi leant back in the chair and tried to relax. He tuned into Abby's voice, the painkillers had banked down the pain in his shoulder, and he wanted to let go of this... whatever it was... he wanted to remember.

_Rain was falling, he was entering the alleyway. There was no lighting... and he remembered the sounds of the rain falling on the dumpster somewhere off to his left and ahead of him. He was cold and wet... somewhere beyond the dumpster something moved, and he half-turned towards that sound... the shot came from his right... punching into his right shoulder... it hurled him sideways... he staggered...colliding with the wall behind him, he clawed his weapon free with his left hand, awkwardly, and returned fire to his right... he tried to see who it was, but the darkness, the rain... a vague shape..._

He was panting with effort, his voice distressed, Abby put her hands on him trying to calm him, his eyes snapped opened and he stared at her in horror.

"Why can't I see her face?"

Abby's hands clutched his in excitement, "Malachi... you said _Her..._"

He stared at her blankly for a moment, hardly comprehending.

"A woman..."

Slowly he nodded.

...ooo0ooo...

It _was_ torture, McGee decided. He and Abby were friends. And only friends now. He had had a few girlfriends since _He and Abby_ had decided to remain friends. And so had she. Admittedly the crazy guy from crime scene clean-up who she met in a graveyard was not exactly _the competition_. But Malachi Ben-Gidon...

The Israeli was a totally different proposition. Tough, experienced, espionage specialist; _wounded hero_ thought McGee sourly. Everything that the _rather nerdy_ McGee wasn't.

It was clear that the attraction was a two-way street as well. Just the way Malachi was holding her hand told McGee that the Israeli was as infatuated as Miss Abigail Sciuto appeared to be.

And Petty Officer Louise Farrell's laptop appeared to be another blind alley. McGee checked it over again. Something was definitely not right.

McGee mulled it over.

_File sizes._ The pictures were all too big.

He started to type, picking up speed.

...ooo0ooo...

"What have you got for me, Ducky?" Gibbs entered autopsy.

The doctor sighed, "Our petty officer did not die of a gunshot wound. That incapacitated her certainly, but she actually died of a knife thrust from behind, between the third and fourth ribs. It pierced the heart."

"So she was stabbed and shot." Gibbs frowned, "that makes no sense."

Ducky gently pulled the sheet up over the young woman's body. "Sudden violent death rarely does. There was some kind of glutinous substance on her leg, I have passed a sample to Abby."

"Thanks, Duck." Gibbs turned on his heel and headed for Abby's lab.

...ooo0ooo...

The lab was uncharacteristically quiet when he entered. Abby was typing away at her computer, and he placed the full Caf-Pow next to her. "What have you got for me, Abbs?"

"Nothing very much, the rain diluted most of the evidence. I'm waiting on the results of the goo from our petty officer's clothes. But other than that I haven't got much."

There was a loud raspberry from behind him, and Gibbs turned, noting with some surprise that their surprise guest was sleeping on the sleeping bag that Abby kept for emergencies, using Abby's beloved Bert as a pillow.

Gibbs silently recalled the conversation he had had earlier with Ducky, wondering if the younger man knew yet or not. But that was between the doctor and his patient.

...ooo0ooo...

McGee could have punched the air in triumph. The pictures, the enormous file sizes were the key. He finally managed to separate them from their camouflage...

Slowly the downloaded pictures re-arranged themselves on the screen in front of him.

McGee's jaw dropped. They appeared to be the pages of a notebook, and some kind of map.

_None of this case makes any sense._


	7. Chapter 7

"What have you got, McGee" Gibbs was frustrated. They had over one hundred man hours on the case and they were precisely nowhere. Petty Office Louise Farrell was apparently a nobody. A Petty Officer. She was not in a position of any importance. She was not privy to any secrets.

Yet someone had killed her. And that same someone also shot their visiting foreign agent. _Why?_

McGee looked up from his screen. "this is what I've got boss." He put it up on the plasma.

DiNozzo moved to take a closer look, "That looks like a treasure map, Probie."

McGee swallowed, the last thing he wanted to admit to, was that this was, indeed, a treasure map; and unlike the maps in the online gamerverse, this one actually looked real.

Gibbs stared at the stripped down pictures, revealing scans of a notebook, and some kind of map. He stepped closer to the screen. "What's this?" He tapped the screen with his finger. McGee squinted, "something the book was resting on when it was photographed, boss."

Gibbs shot him that stare, "I should find out what that is that the book is resting on," McGee said hesitantly, "on it, boss."

Ziva stared at the screen as though her life depended on it. She had seen that map before. She was only a child, no more than about 11 or 12; but she remembered the look of naked greed on the man's face as he talked with her father. Now it was back, and she had no idea why.

She turned away, she had to get this straight in her head, before she said anything to Gibbs.

...ooo0ooo...

The door to the lab swished shut behind Abby, and Malachi sat up. The hypnotism had only partially worked, mostly because he couldn't get the doctor's words out of his head.

_Dr Mallard's words. Gentle, sympathetic, but still they rocked his world._

He needed to know for certain. He could hardly go out to the range, but the ballistics lab would do.

He got to his feet awkwardly and went over to the ballistics lab.

Malachi pulled his Glock from its holster and laid it on the bench, easing his arm out of the sling. For a moment he just stared down at his gun. He could feel that quivering feeling inside, fear that everything the doctor had said would be true, because then he had a real problem. Dr Mallard had encouraged him to test it out. Push himself just enough to check it out. Because not knowing for certain would be more difficult than being sure.

He had time, because Abby had gone to see Ducky about evidence and she would be gone for a little while. He had to do this alone.

He breathed slowly and calmly, trying to relax, trying to will his damaged arm to co-operate. He fumbled slightly picking the gun up. _Relax, breathe, this means nothing, you're still sore from having the bullet removed._ He moved his arm, and pointed it down into the barrel of the ballistics tank and pulled the trigger.

He pulled the trigger twice more. The gun waivered, even steadying it with his left did not help much. _Nerve damage. Just as Dr Mallard had diagnosed._ Just as Malachi had feared. It had taken a long time for the first wound to heal, he had trouble with the shoulder for months. But a second wound in almost the same area? He had known in the back of his mind that there was a fair chance the damage would be more severe. That there would be a potential impact upon his future.

He allowed his hand to drop, the strain of holding the gun was causing his wound to throb. Head bowed in defeat, he turned away; she was standing there. She smiled at him, and stepped forward, putting her arms around his neck she hugged him to her.

Grateful for her silent understanding, he put aside what little reserve he had left. Leaning into her, he hugged her back. He was no longer alone.

...ooo0ooo...

Tony studied Ziva's face as she pretended to ignore the pictures on the plasma screen. He could sense her unease. Silently he pulled open a desk drawer, reached for the small, balled-up piece of paper, and took careful aim.

The paper ball brushed her cheek and bounced off the edge of her desk before falling to the floor. Missing the waste basket by miles.

Ziva glared "Tony. If you have nothing to do, I am sure that Gibbs can give you something." She hissed. "Why don't I ask him?"

He moved over to perch on the edge of her desk. "When you're not sharing?" He asked, all wide-eyed innocence.

Ziva stiffened. "I don't know what you mean." She muttered, looking away too quickly.

"Yes, you do, Zee-Vah." Tony, bent forward, his smile pure Mephistopheles, and Ziva virtually quivered with tension. "Come on what is it? Buried treasure?"

"And if it is?" He was making her uncomfortable, so Ziva threw him a bone.

"Ah-ha!" Tony pounced. "Gibbs will..." The look on Ziva's face changed to sudden triumph.

"Gibbs will...?"

Tony straightened up, "He's right behind me, isn't he?"

The palm bounced off the back of his head. "OWWW!"

"Blackmailing your partner." The infamous Gibbs' silence. "Now what is this about buried treasure."

"Icriem." Ziva cleared her throat and looked a little sheepish, "It was the only thing that Malachi said to me before he passed out." She got to her feet and moved to stand in front of the map. "And it is not the first time I have seen this map." She smiled nervously. "And that notebook."

...ooo0ooo...

She dropped her bag on the bed and turned to draw the curtains. A small clean and thoroughly anonymous room. Perfect for her, using a false identity.

It was a shame about Malachi. He was early, he interrupted her, it would have been better if she had been able to finish him with the girl, she could have set the scene and let him take the fall for the murder. He was a loose end.

She was fairly certain he had turned to his cousin for help. But she had watched Ziva's apartment and there was no sign. Clearly Ziva was a lot smarter, but she had under-estimated her before.

She was ahead of the game, but now she needed to stay ahead. She needed to beat them to Icriem.


	8. Chapter 8

"_Buried treasure?_" Gibbs didn't have to say a thing, his usual poker face held an almost indulgent amusement, to McGee's fevered imagination. Except that this was not amusing. In any way.

"McGee, I need more than vague talk of buried treasure to go on." Gibbs turned away, "Find me something concrete."

"Ziva has something to tell you, boss."

Ziva shot Tony a fierce glare, then realised that they were all staring at her. "I..." she swallowed. "I have seen that map and the book before."

Now they were really staring at her.

"Once..."

"Upon a time." Tony moved closer to park a hip on the edge of the desk.

Ziva glared at him. "In my father's study when I was a child. The man who brought it to him was an old family friend. Not long after my father refused to become involved with the scheme, he disappeared." She paused, "the map is supposed to lead to a fabulous treasure and a great secret."

"A _great_ secret..."

Ziva decided not to rise to Tony's bait. "Apparently no one is sure what this secret is. Some believe it to be the key to supreme power."

"More importantly, why is this _key to supreme power_ on the laptop of a very junior Petty Officer?" Gibbs cut across before Tony could offer more teasing. "McGee?"

McGee looked up from his computer screen, brow furrowed in puzzlement. "Boss?"

"Any answer for me on what this is." Gibbs tapped the screen again, and Ziva and Tony moved in for a closer look.

"Looks like a bishop's mitre." Tony muttered, which garnered him a quick glare from Ziva. "The Spy Who Loved Me. Roger Moore... and Barbara Bach..." The palm bounced off the back of his skull again. "Yes boss, sorry boss." DiNozzo straightened up "It won't happen again."

"McGee?"

"It's a logo of some kind. And there's half an address."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "I'm on it boss."

"Find me answers, McGee."

...ooo0ooo...

Abby knew that Malachi didn't want to talk about the problem with his arm, so she bided her time. They lingered over dinner, and coffee, Abby noting all the little clues to what she suspected. He had suffered nerve damage.

After she had caught him firing his weapon in the ballistics tank, Abby waited until Malachi was talking to Gibbs for the fourth time, and went to Ducky.

The doctor was genuinely upset for the MOSSAD Agent, he wouldn't go into details, but Abby easily read between the lines. Malachi's injury had probably ended his career.

She had only known him a few days, but she could tell he was keyed up and restless. Gibbs and the team were her "Family", Malachi was Ziva's cousin and therefore by extension, "Family."

_Except he doesn't look at you like a relative!_ Abby tried to ignore that little voice in her head. Malachi was Ziva's _cousin_, he was injured and suddenly his whole life was in flux. _The very last thing on his mind would be intimacy._

They were from different worlds. His life was all action and danger, hers was science. With a side order of humanitarianism.

It was Friday. It was a Habitat for Humanity weekend. She was on construction, and she'd explained it to Malachi. She had half-expected him to glaze over and tune out as she talked about it. But he asked questions and seemed really engaged, so she found herself asking him to join her. He accepted, eagerly, he wouldn't be able to do much, but he would do what he could.

It seemed to be fate how in tune they were.

...ooo0ooo...

McGee zoomed in on the mark that Gibbs had pointed out at the edge of the picture. It was blurred and right on the edge. Something under the notebook when it had been photographed.

_It was like something out of James Bond._ McGee tried to zoom in closer, but lost more focus. _Dammit._ He tried a couple more ways. One last shot. He zoomed, and rotated. _Success!_

He homed in on the logo, and suddenly he remembered where he had seen it before.

He swallowed. _This was not good_. He was staring at a local hotel logo.

...ooo0ooo...

Malachi couldn't sleep, strange images playing in his head like a slow motion movie, he found himself straying towards her room.

He hesitated... he did not want to intrude... he knocked. "Come in"

He entered. "Abby, I..."

She held out her hand to him. "I know." She said quietly. "Ducky told me. And it doesn't matter..." she looked a little stricken, "of course it matters, but it doesn't _matter..._"

He took her hand, and sat down next to her.

Abby tugged a little on his good hand, and he stretched out next to her.

It was exactly as she had once told Tim, they were adults, they could share a bed without things becoming... hinky.

He lay down next to her. Feeling vulnerable. More than he had in his life before.

Put a gun in his hand, and he knew exactly what he had to do. Put him with a woman, probably the same... but put him next to this beautiful and amazing woman with her faithful heart in her eyes and suddenly things became less clear.

Her long black hair flowed free around her shoulders, her gentle green eyes were looking at him, tenderness in their clear depths. Honesty. Sweetness.

The weary warrior laid down his arms. He bent his head. Her face tilted up to his; slowly and gently they kissed.

...ooo0ooo...

"... and there it is, boss." McGee paused in triumph, his little moment, even if the name of the hotel had brought back some bad memories. "The Newford Hotel..." the doors to the elevator swished open, and Abby entered the office.

McGee took in her clothing, dungarees, tool belt, the little smudge of white paint on her nose, then registered her companion.

Malachi Ben-Gidon, as casual as McGee had ever seen the man. He was wearing a blue check shirt, and grubby torn jeans, his clothing looked as though it had been hastily assembled from the thrift store. His right arm still in the sling. But still it was the smudge of white paint on the Israeli's cheekbone which made McGee's teeth grind. Even more than the smiles on their faces.

"The Newford Hotel...?" Gibbs' tone was mild enough, but McGee stumbled over his next few words, doubly annoyed at the streak of jealousy that rocketed through him and miserably aware of Ziva and Tony's reactions to it. _They knew_.

"Yes, boss... I showed Petty Officer Farrell's picture, the manager recognised her."

"Grab your gear..." Gibbs was already moving "we have some _buried treasure _to find."


	9. Chapter 9

She watched them enter the hotel foyer, and felt a second's flash of real irritation. They had arrived earlier than she had anticipated. She would have to compensate for this development. Slow them down. Or speed them up, keep them off balance long enough for her to find it.

She had underestimated the simple country girl chosen to transport the goods. Louise Farrell had hidden the notebooks and map. It was a matter of time before she found them, but she needed free rein. Without interference.

Liat Tuvia turned the car and drove away.

...ooo0ooo...

"The Maltese Falcon..."

"Tony!" Ziva snapped, "enough!" She carefully replaced the things she had moved from the suitcase. Louise Farrell might have been dead, but it seemed very disrespectful to the young woman to make a mess of her belongings.

"As I was saying, The Maltese Falcon..."

"Tony, Icriem is not a falcon, Maltese or otherwise." Ziva snapped, exasperated, and Tony's widening grins said it all, he had the upper hand. Desperately, Ziva cast a sideways glance at McGee.

"Nice divert! Zee-Vah." Tony's smirk was pure mischief. "Soooo... McGeek, Abby and Ben-Gidon seemed pretty close back there."

"I didn't notice." Even to his own ears McGee's words sounded unconvincing. Abby liked Ben-Gidon, he obviously liked her _and it is none of my business._

"That would be more convincing, Probie, if you didn't look like there was a stormcloud over your head."

McGee scowled, "I do not." He summoned what little dignity he could muster and stooped to place another number by the evidence he was examining. Snapping off a series of shots to cover his confusion.

Tony moved in for the kill. "And is that the sound of teeth grinding?"

"Just your imagination." McGee straightened up.

DiNozzo's eyes narrowed slightly. Probie almost sounded convincing, apart from that suggestion of a pout from his lower lip, and the eyebrows which were trying not to draw together over his nose.

DiNozzo opened his mouth to say as much.

"Bag and tag, DiNozzo, we are running out of time on this one." Gibbs emerged from the bathroom, evidence bags in hand. "Get it all packed up and transported to Abby."

"The whole room, boss?"

"Yes, Tony... the whole room." The infamous Gibbs' enigmatic stare still had the power to make Tony squirm. "See what Abby can make of it."

...ooo0ooo...

It really was alarmingly easy to slip into the evidence garage unseen. Liat moved quietly into the shadows as the sound of voices filtered back as the elevator doors slid open.

Her target stepped out, followed closely by Liat's former partner. _Damn_. Then Liat realised this was going to work in her favour. They were talking, distracted. Abby's hand strayed up to Malachi's cheek, her thumb gently swiping at the smudge of paint, as he turned his head to plant a kiss in her palm.

Liat struck like a viper.

"Hands up."

As Malachi spun round, clawing frantically for his weapon with his left hand, she drove the butt of her gun into his wounded shoulder with all the force she could muster.

Malachi howled in agony and fell to his knees, bending over, he tried to hold on as his vision blurred.

"Malachi!" Abby cried out in distress and tried to help him. But Liat stepped between them and levelled her gun at the forensic specialist. "Leave him." She reached out with her free hand and grabbed the wounded man's shoulder, twisting with all her strength.

Malachi's eyes were screwed shut against the pain, and Abby shook her head in terror. Blood was already soaking through his shirt. "I'll do whatever you want, just don't hurt him again, please."

Liat gestured with the weapon. "Move."

"Abby!" Malachi's anguished cry strengthened Abby's resolve, she had to get Liat away from him.

The Israeli woman stepped behind her former partner and pistol-whipped him with all her strength. He crumpled and fell forwards.

Abby desperately wanted to go to him, but the muzzle of that gun was pointing straight at her, unwavering. She had to get Liat away from Malachi before she hurt him any more.

"Move."

"You can't possibly hope to get away with this." Abby moved, but slowly.

Liat smirked, "it is obvious that Special Agent Gibbs will do almost anything to protect you."

Abby connected the dots, "it was you... you killed Louise Farrell... you shot Malachi in the alley."

"I did."

"Why?"

"I had a job to do and they were both in the way."

The callous statement also took Abby's breath away, numbly she stared at the ruthless young woman who was dragging her away. Part of her wanted to fight back, the other part knew that would be too great a risk, she needed a better opportunity.

"You drive." They reached a black car, and Abby very reluctantly slid behind the wheel. She had hoped that she would have a chance at the car, but Liat was a step ahead. Abby bided her time, this would take better planning.

...ooo0ooo...

A shiver crawled up Gibbs' spine and he pressed his foot down harder on the gas pedal. His gut told him that something was seriously wrong.

...ooo0ooo...

He came to on the floor, head pounding, his shoulder was bleeding and he felt dizzy and weak. "Abby!" he croaked, but there was no answer and he knew that Liat had her. He had to get help.

He tried to lever himself upright, but blood loss and pain were making his head swim, his vision was blurred and his co-ordination was shot. Slowly and painfully he crawled to the tool cage, and reached up with his good hand. It took him three attempts but he finally managed to pull himself up.

Malachi steadied himself, he was on autopilot as he stumbled into the elevator.

...ooo0ooo...

Gibbs pressed the button for the elevator, something felt wrong and Abby didn't answer when he called, which might mean nothing, but could be something.

He turned, frustrated, the elevator seemed ridiculously slow. Jabbed his thumb on the button again.

A quiet ping announced the arrival of the elevator and Gibbs swung round. The doors swished open.

Malachi stumbled forward, and Gibbs moved swiftly to support the wilting Israeli. "What happened?" The words left his lips even as Malachi's choked response sent a cold shudder down his spine.

"Liat has Abby."


	10. Chapter 10

"She took Abby, Gibbs." Malachi had listed every place he knew, given up everything he could think of willingly, because this was different to him. This was Abby.

Gibbs looked at the grey face of the drained and exhausted man in front of him. Ducky had wanted to send the Israeli to Bethesda, but Ben-Gidon had quietly refused to go. So Ducky had firmly patched his shoulder, but insisted that the only place Malachi would be allowed to go was home to bed.

Gibbs had been present as the doctor had said as much to his patient. The distress on Malachi's face was obvious. A little corner of Gibbs' soul filed that particular nugget of information away, for a time when they had Abby back with them.

So far they were drawing blanks with Liat's whereabouts. She was ahead of them, and Gibbs had no intention of allowing this to continue. Vance had spoken to Eli David, Liat was either working alone or for someone else.

Eli David was on his way stateside.

Finding Abby was the priority.

He looked around at his team, they were all exhausted, strung out, yet no one would leave until Abby was found. He had no idea what was keeping Malachi upright in the chair at the spare desk where Michelle Lee had last sat, but whatever reserves the Israeli may have had left, they had to be close to empty. Yet still the man moved doggedly on, pursuing a lead which had yielded no results so far.

"You should get some rest." Gibbs said quietly. Malachi shook his head.

"It was my fault."

Gibbs put his hand on the younger man's undamaged shoulder. "It wasn't. There was nothing you could have done." He turned away "Get some rest, Malachi," he paused, "when we find Abby, I'll call you."

Slowly the Israeli nodded. Too tired to think of something to say.

...ooo0ooo...

Abby listened in the darkness. She was certain she was alone. But it couldn't hurt to just check a little longer. So she feigned sleep and strained her ears to hear even the slightest suggestion of a sound.

It was quiet. She was definitely alone.

Liat had handcuffed her to the bed, and gone off somewhere. Presumably to try and take advantage of Abby's kidnapping to keep Gibbs and the team off balance.

Well, Abby Sciuto was not going to take that lying down. Abby sat up and fished in the inside pocket of her short kilt.

_Paperclip_

By the dim street light through the dirty window up above her head, Abby smiled lovingly at the contours of the thing in her hand. _101 Uses for a Paperclip – thank you, Ziva._

Silently she went to work. Keeping them all in her thoughts as she tried to both hurry and be efficient. Gibbs, who would surely be worried and Tony who would pretend to joke, McGee who would be his own special brand of confused and frightened. Ziva, who would be cool and calm outside, but like a jelly inside... And Malachi. Abby tried to wipe the last picture she had in her head, unconscious, bleeding... Ducky and Jimmy... Ducky would have tended to Malachi, he would be fine. He'd tried to protect her and Liat had hurt him...

The handcuff fell free, and Abby stood up.

The end of the beginning. She moved silently to the door.

...ooo0ooo...

The door to Abby's lab silently swished open and McGee entered. He was too tired to think straight, and somehow he felt closer to Abby in her lab. Even if Abby wasn't in it.

He wasn't the first. Ben-Gidon was asleep on Abby's emergency mattress, with Bert as a pillow. For the first time, McGee could look at the man without feeling hostility. Ben-Gidon's distress was no fake, and McGee acknowledged the truth, jealousy aside, Malachi Ben-Gidon cared deeply for Abby.

Abby deserved it. And it wasn't as though he wasn't seeing someone. So there was no reason that Abby and Malachi couldn't be together. _Except he's MOSSAD and he's going to have to go back after all this is over._

BLEUGH. The sudden farting noise made McGee jump. He turned to see Malachi sit up, slowly.

"McGee?" Malachi rubbed an eye with the heel of his hand. "Is there any news? Abby?"

"Nothing yet." McGee did not miss the flare of distress in the Israeli's eyes, as Malachi started to get to his feet. He stumbled, and McGee stepped forward, putting an arm around the other man to steady him. "You should be resting." McGee muttered.

"No... I should be helping." Malachi gritted his teeth stubbornly. The pain from his wound was breaking over him in waves. He straightened, took a step and would have fallen but for McGee's swift intervention.

"Abby will be upset if you hurt yourself." McGee said gruffly, feeling just a little embarrassed. Malachi nodded.

"I think I had better sit down again."

McGee helped him sit on the mattress. "I'll call you when we have something."

Malachi moved the hippo into a more comfortable position. The soft farting noise brought a sad smile to McGee's face. "Abby loves that thing." Malachi looked down at Bert, giving the soft toy a gentle squeeze.

"I know." He said. "Abby has a great capacity for love."

It seemed a moment for complete honesty. "And you love her." McGee stared at the Israeli for a moment.

Malachi's slightly confused expression said it more than words could, but he answered with certainty, "I do."

Hearing the man admit his feelings, somehow the last of McGee's jealous feelings subsided. He gave his _rival_ the first really genuine smile he had managed since the Israeli had shown up.

...ooo0ooo...

It was almost embarrassing how easy it had been to get away from Liat's hideaway. But Abby wasn't counting her chickens. She had to find a phone. She was miles from NCIS offices, she kept to the shadows and moved quickly. She had no intention of being re-captured.

The all night convenience store was small and scruffy, and its blink-eyed owner did not seem to have much grasp of English, but he had a functioning payphone.

She took a deep breath, dug the emergency quarter out of her pocket, and called.


	11. Chapter 11

Abby stretched gently, not wanting to disturb Malachi lying next to her. But he sensed her movement and cuddled closer, his good arm sliding round her waist. Cautiously Abby slid her arms around his neck, and they settled together.

It felt good. She drifted, pictures revolving slowly in her mind. Gibbs had answered on the first ring. He must have broken every speed limit and run every red light to get there so fast, but she found herself swept up into his arms almost the second she had hung up.

She had closed her eyes. She leaned on Gibbs, feeling all the strength and love she so badly needed at the moment. "Malachi?" She whispered, the little twinge of fear in her heart, her last view of him playing in her mind, lying on the floor broken and bleeding.

"Fine, he's fine." Gibbs-speak for hurting but under Ducky's care. In the rush of relief, Abby clutched Gibbs tighter.

She could barely picture the drive back to the office. Images of her friends tumbled through her head. She flowed out of the elevator and into Ziva's arms clutching her close. Handed round to Tony and McGee, then Jimmy, words were superfluous.

The soft ping announced the arrival of the elevator, and McGee let go. Abby turned. Malachi was behind her. He looked pale, but he was upright and moving on his own, with a watchful Ducky standing by. A little part of her wanted to run to him. But they were too new, she was too raw from her experience with Liat, and he rather looked as if a puff of wind would blow him over. He stepped forward, and she moved into his arms. As she slid her arms round his neck for a gentle hug, it was not lost on her that he was hugging her with both arms. She could feel that his right arm was not functioning properly, but he wasn't as badly hurt by Liat's attack as he might have been.

Briefly, Abby detailed her experiences to Gibbs. Standing next to Malachi, his hand holding hers like he would never let go. Tony typing as fast as he could, two fingers, a sudden memory of Kate teasing him about it made her falter. Malachi's fingers squeezed hers in silent understanding.

"How did you get away?" Tony looked up from his typing.

For the first time since Gibbs had found her at the convenience store, Abby grinned with a real sense of satisfaction. "Paperclip."

"Eh?" Tony looked startled.

Ziva glanced up and caught Abby's eye, and they giggled.

Tony scowled a little. "Please, not the sisterhood thing."

"I merely taught Abby some of the many uses of a paperclip." Ziva sounded a little like the cat that had got the cream.

Abby fished in her pocket and pulled out the bent piece of wire. "One ordinary paperclip." She announced with considerable satisfaction. "It was so cool. It worked exactly as you showed me."

...ooo0ooo...

By the time she had finished giving all the details she could remember, it was late. Abby was tired. Gibbs signalled to McGee, "take them home with you." He said quietly. Abby wanted to protest, that she would be fine at home with Malachi, but truth be told, she wasn't sure. Them taking refuge at Tim's made sense, even if it was a trifle awkward.

From the look on Tim's face, he didn't mind. Which surprised her.

Malachi didn't really care where he went, as long as it was with Abby.

_It was strange_ Abby decided, sharing Tim's bed with Malachi, while Tim crashed on the couch. They had tried to refuse the bed, but Tim had insisted. Malachi was injured, and Abby had been through a traumatic experience, and he could better protect them from the couch anyway.

Anyway, they were worn out. The spirit might have been willing, but the flesh was too tired. Abby curled into Malachi and drifted.

Malachi held her close.

...ooo0ooo...

It was the silence, Tim decided. He didn't know quite what he had expected. The awkward moment when he'd insisted that they take the bed, and Malachi had actually blushed. Abby had hugged Tim. Then disappeared into his bedroom with another man.

So Tim lay on his back on his couch and tried to pretend that this was all perfectly normal.

Just the idea was making his head hurt.

At least there were no sounds of love-making. He drew the line at that. _Whatever happened to Rule 12?_ Tim rolled over and punched the pillow a couple of times. Conveniently forgetting that his own relationship with rule 12 was on fairly shaky ground.

He huffed a little, as the thought struck him, and settled for sleep.

...ooo0ooo...

Abby dropped the empty Caf-Pow into the waste basket, and moved on to the mass-spectrometer testing on the smudge of dirt from Louise Farrell's jeans. Tim and Malachi were pouring over the scans that Tim had found on Louise Farrell's computer.

Watching them together brought an indulgent smile to Abby's face. Tim had accepted Malachi's presence in her life without fuss. Malachi was out of clean shirts, and Tim had not just lent him one of his, he'd helped Malachi get re-dressed. Easing the shirt sleeve and shoulder over the heavy bandaging that covered Malachi's wound was quite difficult. It did Abby's heart good to see Tim helping Malachi so carefully.

"Two pages." Malachi squinted at the rather fuzzy picture, "I do not see how you can tell anything from this."

Tim huffed in irritation. He had the feeling the Israeli was right, but he didn't want to admit it. "If I freeze, and enhance, and..." the picture pixellated. _Dammit._ He smacked his hand down in frustration. The screen cleared.

"What did you do?" Malachi was sitting up straighter, staring at the screen. "I have seen that before." He stabbed a finger at the design sitting in the middle of the picture. "It is in your museum."

"Which museum?" Abby and Tim chorused in unison.

"I cannot remember."


End file.
